


Fair as Breathing Marble

by cartouche



Series: cold heart of a conqueror [1]
Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Drabble, Foreshadowing, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9671825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cartouche/pseuds/cartouche
Summary: Vergil is light, and stark and aloof, carefully removed behind his fortress walls. Calculating.Dante, on the other hand, is bloody.





	

Vergil is carved from something hard and cold, a motionless lump of marble effortlessly etched with grace and care. His eyes pierce. He could stand there for eternity, unchanged and untouched, refuse to be eroded by the ravages of time. He shines, pure, against the dirt of the city. One day they’ll carve statues of him, glistening pinnacles towering in worship, capturing the noble slant of his brow and his benevolent stare, looking kindly on those scurrying below. Vergil is from a different time, a different place, a different world. Vergil is light, and stark and aloof, carefully removed behind his fortress walls. Calculating, almost. And yet, he’s waited.

Dante, on the other hand, is bloody. 

He can feel Rebellion’s solid weight on his back, a bead of sweat trickle down his neck, his knees buckle dangerously as he staggers down the alley. Vergil is his guiding beacon, and cold night air cuts at his ragged lungs like a thousand razor blades. Still, he can’t bring himself to die. No demon scum is going to best him. 

The wound in his side pulls, leaching crimson into his shirt, dyeing it a muddy scarlet. Vergil’s face is twisted into something half bemused, and strong hands grip at him, preventing the pavement from swallowing him whole. The neon glow of the city swims, red into blue into purple into white. 

_Brother_. It’s a word he never knew he needed.

“Fucking demons.” It hurts to talk. “I’m bleeding on your coat.” He knows how much Vergil loves that coat. There’s a wry twist of lips, and he feels the wound tighten. Good, he won’t die. 

“It can be cleaned.” Yamato presses into him, cold and sharp, deadly. It’s fitting for Vergil. "You underestimated them again. You need to stop toying, Dante.”

He wants to roll his eyes, but he’s right. It’s more than just a game. 

For now, the arms that hoist him up are warm, and briefly, they’re human, vulnerable, whole.

Vergil’s eyes are distant.

He half wishes they were children again, carefree, close. Vergil used to ruffle his hair, and he’d stick out his tongue. Sometimes they’d fall asleep next to each other, exhausted, back to back, always looking out for the other. He wonders where that boy has gone. There’s barely a shadow of him to be found in the broad shoulders that support him, but there’s still a fond look. 

“We’ll get you patched up.” He knows. He’s seen those long fingers precisely stitch together skin, mend flesh and bone. He dotes, vague and frustrated, but unable to reject Dante, no matter how crude, how stubborn or aggressive. 

_Brothers_.

They are bound by blood, no matter what. They will always protect each other. 

His boots scrape across the sidewalk. A light flickers, plunging them into the dark. For a moment Vergil’s features shift, snarling, power hungry, manipulative. 

He’s carved out of stone, but Dante is made of diamond.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, blame percy shelley.  
> i was replaying this game and decided to spew out some trash. my heart longs for a world where vergil isnt a giant prick. dante needs better brothers.  
> this is just a little thing but i want to expand this into a series of view points, so maybe expect more??? who knows


End file.
